The Rebel and the Bookish – by Stephanie Scott #5
Ian tucks my hair behind my ear. I allow myself to turn. We’re eye to eye, me one step up.
“Valerie. I see you.” Ian moves his hand to the back of my neck, snaking fingers through my hair. He kisses me.
It’s soft at first. Gentle and seeking. I press back, one last time, before we end this surreal experience.
That simple response is all it takes for Ian to switch on. He inhales me like a man returned from battle. But there’s control there. He’s not wild and unhinged, just driven. Sure of what he wants.
I imagine Stage Ian snarling into a microphone. All raw energy and passion. Singing background for one song and switching to lead vocals on the next. He was just as big a star to me as Dylan.
My mind flips to the current moment, on these old steps in the place I feel most at home.
This is the Ian I want to know more. I’ve catalogued everything about his band, their tours and discography, music videos, concert footage…but this is the Ian I want to know. Off the road Ian. Dad Ian. Library-loving Ian.
I grip his back and dare to dream of a future with a rock star. A semi-retired rock star, but I’m just as good with that.
He positions me with my back against the door, feeding my need.
This is great until it isn’t.
The same time I hear the lock untwist, I’m falling back.
I fall through the door into the library. I stumble and collapse into a heap on the floor. With Ian on top of me.
Old Mrs. Fisk scowls.
Ian
When I was younger, I thought hitting forty meant my life was over.
Never even thought about getting to forty-five or beyond.
I didn’t understand then that you’re just the same person in an older body.
Same thoughts and desires and urges—maybe softened a bit over time.
There’s opportunity for love over forty. And for trouble.
I do love some trouble.
Direct eye contact is not required to know the Old Crone is horrified. But I look up anyway. Worth it.
“I don’t believe this!” she sputters, blinking rapid fire like she can blink us out of existence. “This is unacceptable!”
Yeah, she’s shook .
And honestly, it’s insulting. What, she doesn’t think Valerie is capable of making out with a (retired, aging) rock star?
Maybe news to her, but not me: Valerie is hot. She’s smart, cares deeply about culture and this town, and she’s sexier than ever.
I help Valerie stand. She must be mortified, and for that, I have regrets. I never meant to put her in a compromised position. Sexy or not, our behavior isn’t professional.
Valerie’s hair is disheveled—all tousled and undone like she stumbled out of a mosh pit. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, but not from Botox like the women I dated in L.A.
“Mrs. Fisk, I’m so incredibly sorry for?—”
“You’re cavorting with a man in the library. I expected more from you.” Not sure how it’s possible, but the Crone looks down her nose at Valerie, who is taller than her.
“I know, but this was all an accident—well, not all of it, but the locked in the basement part?—”
“Never mind that. It’s him .” She steers her eye beams at me like a heat-seeking missile scanning for impropriety. Scan complete. Her mouth turns like an upside-down U. “You were always a troublemaker. Badgering the other kids. Causing trouble. Such a bad influence. Rotten to the core .”
It hits me in the chest. I may be well into my forties, but it’s like I’m that rowdy, approval-seeking kid all over again. I’m rotten. A bother. A nuisance.
“That’s enough .” Steel edges Valerie’s tone.
No longer meek or apologetic, she straightens to her full height.
“Those are cruel words and even worse because you treated Ian so poorly when he most needed support. When he needed a safe place, this place, you kicked him out. Do you know kids carry that hurt and shame for life? Your judgment can prevent kids from reading, from discovery. You do it to this day. I’ve watched kids come into this library to learn and to explore and you have the gall to stomp all over their curiosity if they don’t fit your mold.
I tried for years to fit—look at me, all these years later and I’m still trying to impress you.
And for what? To lose out on this promotion because I made a dumb mistake locking myself in the basement?
Because I associate with someone you deem unworthy? You owe Ian an apology.”
The Crone—er, Mrs. Fisk, gapes at Valerie. “I…I don’t know what you mean. I don’t keep kids from learning or discovery. This is a library, and we have rules. It’s my duty to teach them that the library deserves respect.”
She sounds unsure of herself. Almost as if she’s looking for validation.
“Whatever you think of me,” I tell her, “shouldn’t reflect on Valerie.
She deserves this promotion, or a fair shot at it.
Don’t let all this,” I gesture toward myself, “get in the way. In fact, I’ll get out of your hair, just like I always did after causing a disruption.
I’m sorry I caused any harm to Valerie’s chances for this job. ”
“Ian.” Valerie reaches for me, her expression a mix of apology and regret. Her lip gloss is a little smeared. I’m proud I did that. Can’t help it.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “Time for me to split. Gotta check on the kids.”
Her eyes widen. “Emma! Oh, she is in so much trouble. I’m coming with you.”
Mrs. Fisk sputters. “What’s happening with Emma? Your sweet Emma isn’t mixed up with his kids, is she?”
I pause, looming over her. I’d growl, but that’d shake her to her little granny boots. Screw it. I growl. “Leave my kids out of this.”
She tries to muster a response, all grimacy and disgusted, and suddenly I see her for who she is.
A woman weary from time and incessant shushing.
An insecure person hiding behind rules and order.
Maybe she’s lonely. Maybe she’s a lot of things I don’t know or understand.
Her power over me is done. If anything, I feel sorry for her.
“You know what?” I interrupt whatever she’s saying. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry for intruding on your library, but we have to go. Our kids need us. And if you want to judge me for putting my kids first, that’s on you.”
Valerie looks panicked—could be a couple things driving that—but she only nods and walks ahead of me, leading the way, as she always has, in her quiet, resolved way.
Leaving a cranky librarian in the dust.
Valerie
I follow Ian in my own car to his house. I generally know where he lives (small town), but approaching the house adds another layer to my improving perception of him.
It’s a modest, older home, and well kept.
One of my favorite styles, brick with a pointy front gable and a windowed sunroom extending from one end.
A tidy lawn and honest-to-goodness flowers in the window boxes.
I lack any sort of green thumb and my yard is always overgrown and weedy.
It’s not lost on me that the messy musician has a more put-together house than this librarian with the seemingly perfect life.
That’s not important. Emma matters. Taking Emma out of here.
I ended up texting her to stay put until I got here. Turns out, Carina isn’t even in town, so Emma is on her own at Ian’s. Who does Emma know at Ian’s?
Inside the vibe is one I’m acutely aware of as a parent—sorrier efforts have been made. Six or seven teenagers look our way, standing a little too straight, smiles a little too pleasing.
“You clean up quick,” Ian says. Ah, he gets it. “Anyone here not heard my scared straight talk? I’ve got my buddy on speed dial, the one who melted down on?—”
“Dad, we’re fine.” His daughter Angelica shuffles toward him and gives him a side hug. “You didn’t have to rush home.” She’s adorable and acting shy, embarrassed likely because she told him there were too many kids here who weren’t allowed. “Nothing happened, it was just those guys Caden invited.”
“They left,” his son says. “They acted like they were into Dungeons and Dragons, but all they did was make fun of us. They’re losers.”
Across the room, Emma avoids my gaze. She sits at the table in the connected dining room. Character sheets, dice, and pop cans litter the table. Next to her is Ian’s son.
“Dad, I promise everything’s cool,” Caden says. “I invited Emma but didn’t think she’d come. Jayden and Chris you already know, and Chris brought Amber. I showed them that D&D YouTuber we watch and they thought the game sounded fun.”
I can’t take my eyes off Emma. She’s fidgeting but looking a little dreamy at Ian’s son. No, not at Ian’s son. At the other boy standing behind him. Jayden, is it?
Ian crosses his arms, looking back at me. “What do you say? You want to roll for punishment?”
“What?” I’m a mess of emotions. I might have lost my promotion, kissed Ian—more than once—but it’s Emma I’m perplexed by.
Is Emma afraid to tell me about these new friends?
Does she no longer trust me? She lied to me about being at Carina’s.
We need to talk about the lying. There need to be consequences.
Doreen Fisk flashes through my mind. Scowling at kids, telling teenagers they aren’t welcome in the library because they’re too noisy. Rules matter, but so does empathy. Building trust goes both ways.
I won’t ream out my kid in front of her friends. We have talking to do, but right now, I want to try a different angle.
“I have an idea.” I tug Ian’s elbow and lean toward his ear. “Why don’t we play? All together?”
“You want to play?” Ian’s deadly smile quakes my knees.
Now Emma catches my eye. Her mouth gapes. She looks a little grossed out. Fair enough. I’m rubbing Ian’s elbow and whispering in his ear.
Ian clasps his hands together and looks at the kids. “How about two new players joining your party?”
“Only if you’re actually a new character, Dad,” Caden says. “You can’t play the sober bard. I forbid it. I can’t handle any more of his lectures on the dangers of underage drinking.”
I snort. “Is your bard a D.A.R.E. officer?”